All That I've Got
by Sam Carter O'Neill
Summary: In the years following the disclosure of the SGC, SG1 drifts apart. What happens as they’re forced to reunite by uncontrollable circumstances? SJ
1. Default

title: all that I've got

Based on: "all that I've got" by the used

Started: April 7, 2005

Summary: In the years following the publication of the SGC, SG1 drifts apart. What happens as they're forced to reunite by uncontrollable circumstances? (S/J)

Samantha Carter was running furiously to the stargate. She was using every ounce of strength she had to propel her tired body forward. Her commanding officer was on her left, her friend and archaeologist was on her right, and the alien liaison, for lack of a better description, was on her six. They all fired on the Jaffa coming from seemingly all angles and sides. But their staff blasts were coming too fast. She followed a yelled command from her CO to kneel behind a large and rather well-placed boulder in the desert-like planet she thought looked more like Nevada than P7X-879.

The abundant supply of Naquada on P7X-879 was discovered four months ago. Since then, SG teams were a regular—pop in, check on the natives' supply of clean water and medical supplies, get some Naquada , pop out. It was simple enough. Or so it _had_ been. Apparently word traveled fast; those pesky Tau'ri were at it again. Thus gliders and hatak vessels had begun their descent on Nauguri, as P7X-879 was also known as, about 34 minutes ago. Of course, whatever goa'uld (or goa'uld plural) was responsible for all these annoying weapons being pointed at the collective face of SG1, had made it his (or her… or their) first order of business to secure the gate.

So they ran. They ran like hell, which just means that they ran like they always did. But the Jaffa were closing in, and fast. But the DHD was now in sight.

O'Neill knelt beside Carter and lay cover-fire for her, as she did the same for him. "Cover me!" he barked.

Before she had time to fully comprehend what the colonel had ordered, he was running to the DHD to dial them home—the DHD that was right in the open. By some miracle, he managed to shoot and kill the four Jaffa who had guarded the DHD. Four Jaffa guarding the DHD? There were at least 25 now closing in on her team, but the major continued to lay cover-fire for her CO, just as she had done many times before.… but she couldn't remember ever feeling the feeling that was now creeping up her spine. It was this horrible burning sensation…

O'Neill punched in the first gate symbol and the inner ring of the gate began to spin. The first chevron clicked into place ("engaged" as Walter (or Picard for that matter) would say) and then spun in the opposite direction. It was like a giant combination lock that opened up to reveal so much more than her Chemistry books, her jacket, her tiny locker-sized posters and three stale peanut butter and jelly sandwiches like in high school.

The burning sensation was now this horrible weight the size of nine elephants in the pit of her stomach, like she knew… no. this time would be different.

"DANIEL, GO!" he yelled when the seventh chevron had "locked." Daniel obeyed.

"TEAL'C!" Teal'c obeyed.

"CARTER!" Carter froze, a sense of déjà vu leaving her distracted and as if she were missing something vital.

"CARTER, LET'S—" his words stopped short and she looked up to see her commanding officer clutching his left arm. He'd been shot.

"NOOOOO!" she screamed. In a heartbeat, Major Samantha Carter was kneeling next to O'Neill, cradling his head in her arms on her lap. "Come on, Colonel! Get up! Let's go!"

He stared up at her with eyes that knew the end…Déjà vu… eyes that pleaded with her to leave him to the inevitable, to death. His arm raised up and he touched her desert-fatigued arm. "Sam…" he croaked.

"Come on, colonel! The gate is going to close! You have to—"

He somehow managed to wipe a tear from her face with one of his bloody hands. "Sam, I—I—"

"And good morning to the tri-state area! The time is now six a.m. and let me tell you, it is a chilly December morning here in Woodhaven, Connecticut!"

"That's right, Becky-Sue! And with only 12 days to go before Christmas, we here at WPLJ hope you have all your shopping done! Because once that—"

Samantha Carter gave the alarm clock a good smack, knowing that whatever damage she could manage to inflict upon the gadget would be fairly easily repairable.

The movement allowed her to feel the sweat making her cotton pajamas stick to her skin. She cupped her face with her hands before running them through her hair. That damned nightmare again. She'd heard of recurring dreams but this was ridiculous.

It happened more or less once a month since the Stargate program had become public knowledge. They recurred more frequently during Christmas or when she thought about… him. And each time got more vivid, and some mornings she woke herself when she screamed. Others, she woke with tears running uncontrollably down her cheeks. But once she remembered where she was; once she remembered where he was…

She could never understand why it was that each time she had the dream, the events were exactly the same—the number of Jaffa, the places they were shot, and Jack's last words were always the same…but he never outright **said** them—how was it that everything was always a surprise! She'd asked one of the other professors once but he had wanted to psychoanalyze her or something so that never quite worked out.

Speaking of the other professors…

Sam slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. She turned on the hot water and brushed her teeth as she waited for the water to heat up. Once it was as scalding as she could physically endure, she peeled off her sweaty clothes and stepped in—toe first. The hot water running down her body was the best thing for all mornings but today it was pure bliss. The urea from the sweat on her skin and the tear-stains from her face were all washed away with everything else—the memories of her past life were washed away as well as the grease in her hair. Not to say that all of her past life was as grease in her hair, but…

Fifteen minutes later, she was done. She wrapped her terry robe around her naked body and put her dirty clothes in the hamper. She quietly padded her way down the hall and stopped at the first door to her left. She turned the doorknob and just before she entered, she recognized the faint smell of coffee coming from downstairs—another refreshing morning thought.

Heavy breathing resonated through that first room on the left. She walked over to the source of the noise and picked up a small child in her arms. The child didn't fuss but began to suck his thumb in replacement of breakfast. Sam cradled the baby, gently attempting to wake him up enough that he would recognize that breakfast was in his tiny face.

A short while later, the baby of only 1 month was fed and burped. Sam replaced her son in his crib for a little extra sleep while she had her breakfast. She made her way downstairs to the coffee.

"Another nightmare?" her husband asked as soon as she'd made her entrance into the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah." She answered, slightly uncomfortable to speak about her dream with him. "Why? I mean, I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, no… I could just. Tell." He took his usual seat at the head of the table as Sam made her way to the sweet nectar of life. "Jake was fed?" he asked.

"Uh huh." She answered, stifling a yawn. "I'm seeing four potential sitters today," she noted. The baby, Jake—Jacob— was too young to be placed in the care of a sitter yet but maternity leave from Yale University, where Sam taught, gave her plenty of time to interview potentials.

"Hopefully you won't get any today."

"Hmph," she agreed. "Any" reffered to some of the potential sitters who were only SGC enthusiasts looking for an autograph, a speech on wormwhole mechanics, or just to meet her. It was a little scary sometimes. Had she known that SG1 would become world-famous (hell, _universally_ famous) after the disclosure of the stargate program, she thought, she would have changed her name and gotten a good deal of plastic surgery beforehand.

Her husband got up and moved towards his wife. "I'm going to go say 'bye' to Jake. I love you, Sam. Have a great day, " he gave her a peck on the cheek.

She returned the gesture, "Bye, Pat. "

**t**o be co n t i n u e d

A/N: Feedback is **GREATLY** appreciated. Thanks for reading. Next chapter (about jack) to be posted SOON. In case you were confused, Jack and Sam are **NOT** married and Jack **IS** alive.


	2. time heals all wounds

"all that I've got" by sam carter oneill wagtail

chapter 2: time heals all wounds

Jonothan O'Neill sat at his dining room table nibbling at a piece of toast and flipping through the morning paper. He made a habitual movement to reach for his coffee cup and lifted it to his lips only to find the cup was cold and the coffee drunk. It was now about eight in the morning and he had been up hours earlier, with the sun— just one of the things he'd picked up (and retained) from being in the military for so long. Even now as he'd been retired for a few years, Jack still craved routine. In fact, he would still be in the military if it didn't make him think of…

Speaking of things he would have done, during the fall or spring or summer, Jack would normally be outside instead of inside, doing the one thing he knew best—fishing. But with winter came **frozen** ponds.

Suddenly, here was a light scratching sound coming from the patio door. Jack immediately got up and peered outside to see a border collie staring up at him with big round eyes, begging to be let in from the cold.

Jack opened the door, "Come on, Luke. It's freezing out there. "

After his retirement and permanent residence in his cabin, Jack had gotten lonely. Dogs being among his favorite people, Luke Skywalker (or just "Luke") moved in, too.

Jack walked back over to the table where he'd been sitting and picked up the empty coffee cup to toss it in the sink. He also picked up the newspaper and walked into the living room. At a desk in a corner, he opened a drawer and fished around in it until he found the scissors. Sitting down on the floor near the coffee table and began cutting an article out with meticulous precision—being sure to cut in perfectly straight lines.

When his task was complete, he disposed of the rest of the newspaper and walked over to the closet in the hallway, Luke following and watching him as if Jack were about to pull a doggie treat from the closet.

When Jack opened the closet, he reached for the topmost shelf and maneuvered a large box down. He blew on the box to rid it of the dust which had been collecting on top of it now for almost a year. . . No, a year exactly.

He placed the box on the coffee table and picked up the televison remote control, turning on the tv for background noise—just anything but the news in case he saw a story about…

He removed the still-dusty cover from the large cardboard box that had once held… a microwave? He couldn't remember, but that wasn't important. The other side of the box's cover bore a very familiar design.

The contents of the box made his heart rate race and retard at the same time… the same insignia on the inside of the cover was imprinted on a patch on his SGC jacket—the first item out of the box.

Second, he pulled out a scrapbook. _Such_ _a_ _cliché_, he thought, as he opened the cover to reveal a picture of SG1. He studied the faces, not having seen any of them in the past year. He wondered briefly how much those faces had changed since he'd seen them last. Nostalgia flooded over him as the next picture showed SG1, not serious and stern as in the previous picture, but this time relaxed and smiling. The photograph was taken their second year together, at a picnic with George Hammond and Janet and Cassandra Fraiser. The picture of the team's third year was missing but his favorite, from their fourth, was in its rightful place.

In this picture, taken at a local diner the very night before the memory-stamping incident, the team was in civilian clothes. They were all squeezed into one side of a booth—Teal'c frowning uncomfortably at the end, Daniel next to him trying his best to smile, and…she and Jack were sitting next to each other, starting stupidly at one another. Jack had just made some ridiculous joke about the… was it the fries? And she had the biggest grin on her face, like he'd said the funniest thing ever. The camera, which had been on auto-timer, not only caught him staring at her, but it also captured a storm of emotions in his eyes that weren't completely obvious but if you looked hard enough and if you knew the situation, you know that he was thinking about…

Jack turned the pages of the book until he reached the first blank page. He stuck the freshly clipped newspaper article, titled _SGC_ _5_ _Years_ _Later_, on the page. He sighed. Five years? In most ways it seemed so long ago. But it seemed like just yesterday that she'd…

The phone rang.

Jack replaced the book in the microwave/mystery box, got up and reached the phone just in time.

"Hello? General Jonothan O'Neill?" said a woman's voice from the other end.

Jack winced. It scared him when people called him 'Jonothan'—it sounded too… serious.

"Retired. Speaking."

"Oh God, Jack! It's so good to hear your voice!"

"Uh… not to spoil a moment here, but—"

"It's me! Cassie! Cassandra Sull—Cassandra Frasier!"

"Cassie!"

"Yes, Uncle Jack, It's me!"

"Oh Christ, you sound so…"

"I'm older, yes, Jack."

"Well, _Cassandra_, it's so good to hear your voice, too!"

She laughed, but not whole-heartedly—as if something were bothering her.

"Jack… where have you been?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Cassie had breached the one… well one of the subjects Jack was hoping she wouldn't. Five years ago, Jack had disappeared to live like a hermit in his cabin in 'the land of sky-blue waters.' He spoke to no one from the SGC, went to no reunions, no birthday parties . . . no weddings

"I've been… here."

"We all thought you were in D.C."

"I was. I left. Retired four years ago." _Told_ _no_ _one_ _where_ _I_ _went_… _except_ _one_ _person_…

"Jack, George Hammond is dead."

Their conversation relapsed into silence.

"What?"

"Last night."

"How?"

"He's been sick for three years, Jack."

"No one _told_ me!"

"No one _knew_ where you were!"

Jack felt the sting in her words and was suddenly very ashamed of himself, as a child reprimanded for a stupid mistake. "… I'm so sorry, Cassie."

"He wanted you to be here, for his funeral… it's in Colorado Springs, I hope you still remember how to get here."

"I'll be there." Apparently time didn't heal all wounds... but then he knew that for himself.

"The wake will be held day-after-tomorrow. At Frank's Funeral Home, about twenty minutes from the SGC. 7pm. The funeral mass and burial are the day after that. "

"Thank you, Cassie."

"…You're welcome, Jack."

"I'll see you there."

"Yes… and Jack?"

"Huh?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing you after all these years. So much has changed."

"I know… Bye, Cass."

…T o b e c o n t i n u e d…

A/N: feedback is once again appreciated. Thanks for the great reviews of the first chapter… I just hope you like this one as well. Next chapter will be up ASAP. Thanks again, guys! Also I've fixed some embarrassing typos from the first chapter but these page breaks in this one just... snuck up on me—I have no clue where they came from. Just ignore them. XOXO


	3. we regretfully inform you

"all that I've got" by sam carter oneill wagtail

chapter 3: we regretfully inform you…

The doorbell rang for the third time that day. This ring was the most persistent—like when you order Chinese food and the delivery guy keeps ringing until you open the damned door and shove the money in his face... talk about not starting out on the right foot.

"I'm coming!" Sam said to herself as she lay Jacob down in his crib and ran downstairs to admit today's third candidate for baby-sitter.

"Good afternoon, Mrs….." the young woman looked down at her notes, "Mrs. Kenny. My name is Laura, I've come to be interviewed for the baby-sitting position."

"Yeah, hi. Come on in." Sam led the young woman inside her house.

Laura was a tall young lady… _I'd_ _say_ _about_ _26_ _years_ _old_ Sam thought. Laura had clear eyes and a strong back. She had her long red hair tied up in a bun and out of her face. She wore a little makeup, nothing extravagant, and denim overalls with Powerpuff girls on the front. Hmm, maybe persistent doorbell ringing wasn't such a **bad** trait after all…

As it turned out, Laura was the baby sitter of the century. She had a wonderful reputation, an impressive resume, and a very effective-sounding method. Sam could remember a long time ago when she too had taken up baby-sitting, in high school, to make a few extra bucks, but she wasn't a quarter of the baby-sitter this girl was! She had baby-sat for—

The phone rang.

"Hey Cassie! What's up? When are you and Michael coming to Connecticut to visit your godson and me?"

"Sam, George died last night."

"Oh my God…"

"I know. But he's in a better place now. He was suffering."

"The funeral and wake? Colorado Springs?"

"Yes, at Frank's Funeral Home at 7pm the day after tomorrow. "

"Jesus. I can't believe he's really gone."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. "

"Me too. I'll see you then."

"Bye Sam."

"Bye Cass." Sam pressed the end button and put the phone down, as if in shock. She walked into the den, and sat at the computer, lost in thought. First order of business—tickets to Colorado Springs.

Within a few minutes there was the distinct sound of keys at the door.

"Hey honey, how was your day?"

"Hi Pat," she said from the den, "how was work?"

"Not too bad. Two of my classes were canceled, so all in all pretty easy."

"Guess what," Sam said as she entered the living room, where her husband was standing, "I found the perfect sitter… and we're going to Colorado tomorrow!"

"Oh that's fantast— What? Why?"

"Her name is Laura and she has the most impressive resume ever! She baby-say for Norah Jones!"

"No, I mean… Norah Jones? Really?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Wow… wait, so why are we going to Colorado tomorrow…. Tomorrow!"

"My former CO, from when the SGC was secret, George Hammond—do you remember him? He came to our wedding. "

"Yes… No… what happened?"

"The one with cancer I went to visit in the hospital in November…?"

"Oooh, right! Him! Sent us that wonderful box of Cubans when Jake was born. "

"Yes…Pat, he died last night."

"Oh, Gosh. That's terrible... So we're going to the funeral?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay. I can live with that…"

Sam winced at her husband's poor choice of words.

"Sorry," he said.

"It'll be a nice opportunity to catch up on everyone, though… I haven't seen a lot of them since I moved up here. "

He nodded passively. "So… how long do we stay?"

"Only four days. The funeral is the day after tomorrow and the next day is the burial. I figured we might as well stay a while and see how everyone's doing while we're there. "

He raised his eyebrows, taking a step closer to his wife.

"Okay, so **I** can stay a while… and show off my beautiful new baby, " she wrapped her arms around him, "…And Jake too…" she smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Suddenly, Jacob emitted a loud cry from upstairs—dinner time!

"Duty calls," Sam said, planting another kiss on her husband's cheek before heading upstairs to take care of her child. "Better start packing!" she called as she ascended the stairs.

A/N: What a short chapter! Booger. Can you tell I'm obsessed with Norah Jones? She doesn't really have any children, but it was either her or Britney Spears and she might actually be pregnant…Well, hope everyone's still liking. I'm thrilled with your reviews! Keep 'em coming… XOXO


	4. remorse

"all that I've got" by sam carter oneill wagtail

chapter 4: remorse

Sam lay in bed, tossing and turning, with loud, sonorous, reverberating snores being emitted from Pat, who lay beside her. Sam looked at the clock—12:47am. It was the night before their departure to Colorado for the funeral of George Hammond. And for some reason, Sam couldn't sleep—couldn't keep her eyes closed—for the life of her. She cut herself slack, after all the man who had been her boss for… how long was it? Eight years? had just died. It was completely natural for her to…

Oh that was it! She couldn't stand the snoring any longer. She lifted the blankets off and stepped onto the carpeted floor, careful not to awaken Pat. She left the bedroom and tiptoed down the hall, pausing for a few moments at Jake's bedroom door to make sure he was asleep. She swore this child took after his father, all he did was sleep!

She made her way into the den and closed the door. Sam flipped on the television; this room was far enough from the bedrooms that the sound wouldn't wake up the rest of her family… besides, they slept like the dead!

Sam flipped through the tv guide, nothing really appealing to her—late night tv was nothing but infomercials, "adult" entertainment, and reruns of old shows. She settled for the news as her thoughts returned to the approaching day…

It was to be her first return to Colorado Springs since her marriage to Pat three years ago. She'd left the SGC once it had gone public… it was this day (well, now it had been yesterday) five years ago. A new president had just taken office and he felt that it was time the people of Earth know what was going on, what was being done to protect them—a fair enough decision.

When Sam looked up at the illuminated television screen, they were doing a segment on the SGC. They had come a long way in five years—there were thirty-five SG teams, which was far more than was really necessary, and there were many more people working on the project. Their headquarters was still in Cheyenne Mountain but the gate itself was in D.C. . They were also working on actually _building_ a gate... word on the street had it they were making excellent progress. Maybe they'd have been done by now if they'd had Sam work on it. She'd been offered countless times to still be a part of the Stargate, But she'd rejected the offer. She could never…

Then she saw it. She was snapped out of her thoughts by a familiar picture on the television screen… SG1.

SG1 was the most famous SG team ever. There had been movies, documentaries, a television show, and even a _clothing_ line for children starring SG1.

But it wasn't until that moment, when she had seen the picture of her old team that she realized exactly what she was so pensive, anxious, nervous, down-right antsy about:

Would she be seeing Jack O'Neill?

She couldn't figure out whether she hoped she did or if she hoped she **didn't** see him, but either way... there had been things left unsaid. She hadn't seen him in five years. She hadn't seen him since…

"_I WON'T DO IT TO YOU, TOO!" _

_The hurt in his eyes was more intense than any intensity she'd seen in her life. He was begging her, pleading her with every fiber of his being… _

Sam pressed the power button on the remote control, put her head in her arm, and closed her eyes. A million thoughts were racing through her mind. One emotion: remorse… when suddenly,

_Samantha Carter was running furiously to the stargate. She was using every ounce of strength she had to propel her tired body forward. Her commanding officer was on her left…_

A/N: Another short chapter. The next one should be a little longer, I'll post it on Thursday or Friday. Thank you so much for your support. MWAH! XOXO


	5. crisis

"all that i've got" by sam carter o'neill wagtail

WARNiNG: SPOiLERS FOR SEASON EiGHT'S "THREADS"

chapter 5: crisis

He drove down the road at 75 miles an hour. It was 4am and he was tired from all the driving but he couldn't even think of sleep. Jack O'Neill's nerves made him feel like he was fourteen years old and about to go on his first date. He couldn't eat, he couldn't think straight, he'd had butterflies in his stomach since he got Cassie's call, and he'd had an annoyingly perky ditty in his head since he realized the repercussions of the almost accidental reunion.

The signs by the side of the road coupled with Jack's calculations told him that he had about 6 more hours of driving to go before he reached Colorado Springs...and he didn't have to be at Frank's Funeral Home for another fifteen hours. He decided to keep driving until he needed to stop.

To him, driving was a soothing lullaby. When he drove, especially on an empty road like this one, he could think. He could even think out loud and no one would know. Tonight, or rather "this morning," his thoughts were all over the place. They were in Minnesota, Colorado Springs, D.C., the SGC, and… Connecticut. But wherever his thoughts wandered, they always found themselves back on one specific night five years ago—the night when she…

Oh, a Dunkin' Donuts. The thought of coffee appealed to Jack and he thought about stopping off to get some but then quickly rejected the idea as he figured said event would probably spark a star-sighting. Hmph, Jack O'Neill helped save the world and as a result he couldn't stop off for a cup of coffee because he was afraid of being jumped by rabid fan-girls who thought he was amazing. And he wasn't.

Jack O'Neill was far from amazing. Hell, at the very beginning, he came _this_ close to sending an atomic bomb to a planet because it had been so much easier to just shoot at problems.

Then came SG1.

SG1 had been his family… Yet another reason Jack O'Neill was far from being amazing—he hadn't been in touch with his "family" for five years. And it wasn't that he had _wanted_ to lose contact with them, they just seemed so far away since… oh here he went again. His thoughts had returned to _that_ night. That night five years ago.

SG1 plus Jack himself had been informed that the SGC would become public knowledge two weeks before it'd been disclosed. That was the beginning of the end…

It was the fishing trip of a lifetime, almost nine years in the making when the original SG1 went fishing, just after the death of Carter's father. And after she broke the engagement to Pete Shanahan... and after she and Jack had realized that they were in love.

In each other's arms, they had discussed the status of their relationship. They decided that they could never be happier with other people. They also decided that the Air Force was wrong to decide who could love whom. But it went no further than that—talk.

A week after that was when they were told about the disclosure of the SGC.

The next day, Carter submitted her resignation. In her letter, she made it clear that she wished to be stay at Cheyenne Mountain as "Dr. Samantha Carter" and she gave her reason for leaving the military as "pursuit of a personal relationship."

If he closed his eyes and concentrated, Jack could still see the letter in his memory.

Jack had submitted her resignation to the Powers That Be an hour later for their approval.

Then they told him.

Hammond had retired and Jack himself had been promoted to Hammond's old position… in D.C. These were to be Jack's final two weeks in Colorado.

Crisis erupted when Carter's resignation was approved. Now she was to be a civilian at the SGC and Jack was moving halfway across the country.

They spent the night Carter's resignation was official together. When Jack removed her dog tags, there was explosion of bottled-up emotions: Love, the Desire to express that love, and Passion.

In the morning, Jack had asked her to marry him… and she said no.

He remembered every detail, from scent of her hair to the way she screamed,

"I WON'T DO IT TO YOU, TOO!"

He didn't know what the hell she'd meant. And he begged her; he pleaded her... but she left. Just like that, she left. He ran out of his house to grab her and explain to her until she understood that she was his world—his sun, his moon, his earth, his sky, his love, his LIFE—but she left anyway. And the next morning he did too.

Jack was so engrossed in his thoughts—memories— as he drove down the highway that he didn't see the oncoming truck until its headlights nearly blinded him and it was too late.

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update, something weird happened to my computer and on my day off I ran into an unexpected glitch in my schedule, so I wrote tonight (Sunday… I have school tomorrow and I wrote! That's how much I love you all!) Next chapter up **by** Wednesday. Hope you enjoyed my lovely little cliffhanger. XOXO


	6. smile like you mean it

_"**all that i've got**" by sam carter o'neill wagtail_

_chapter 6: smile like you mean it_

"Hello? Earth to Sam? Come in, Sam!"

Sam was snapped out of her reverie by her husband's calling her.

"What would you like to drink, ma'am?" the stewardess asked her.

"Uh… water please," She had been staring into space for the past… God knew how long. Probably since she woke up this morning and remembered having the damned dream again.

"Sam, honey, is there something bothering you?"

"Well it couldn't be that we're going to my old CO's funeral, perhaps," she bit back sarcastically.

He gave her a look that seemed to say, "sorry for caring."

"I'm sorry, Pat. Really I am. I'm just a little… stressed out, that's all. "

"It's okay. I understand. Actually, I can't begin to comprehend what you're going through, I—"

He was interrupted when Sam caught his lips in hers. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Get some rest. You hardly slept at all last night."

She nodded and with another quick peck on the lips, turned to look out the window beside which she sat.

They were currently on a jet in first class headed to Colorado Springs. Pat was looking after Jake; it was Jack-- Jake's first flight and he wasn't taking to the sky all that well. They were due to arrive in Colorado in about three hours and Sam needed sleep. Recently she would wake up more tired than before she slept. Again and still, she blamed the dream.

She stared out into the fluffy white clouds and the clear blue horizon as she thought pensively about the day ahead. She kept running different scenarios over and over in her head, trying to find the best one for if **he** was there. She had decided, though, that for the sake of a good night's sleep, she needed to confront him. She prayed to whatever god would listen that he had a wife and a family or at least a girlfriend.

She prayed that he'd gotten over her, that he'd forgotten all about her, and that he'd forgotten how she hurt him.

"PLEASE, SAM! I love you more than life itself! I need you here! God, Sam, NO! If you leave now you'll—"

and that had been all she could bear to hear. Through her tears, she forced herself out of the life of the one and only man she truly lov—

No, not the only man… anymore.

* * *

She checked her hair in the mirror of her compact. Samantha Kerry was sitting in her rental car in the parking lot of Frank's Funeral Home. She looked at the clock on the dashboard—6:54. Six minutes. Six minutes and she would see friends and honorary family whom she hadn't seen since Cassie's wedding to Michael Sullivan three years ago. She was nervous, and she had definitely made a point of wearing waterproof mascara. Hell, she wasn't in the Air Force anymore.

She put on her sunglasses and slowly stepped out of the car. She locked the doors with the automatic button on the key chain and stuffed it into her purse.

Sam was alone; Patrick had stayed at the hotel because Jake wasn't feeling very well after the long plane ride.

She carefully examined the parking lot in hopes of finding a familiar car, but found none. Slowly, she made her way to the entrance and opened the door to the funeral home. It smelled like fresh flowers and embalming liquid. She fought the urge to retch at the smell that caught in her throat. She felt people staring at her. Her nerves and the smell of death made her want desperately to run outside and vomit. But like the soldier she had been for so long, she kept going.

She smiled when she turned to see people gazing and smiling at her. But she didn't have any clue as to who they were. But they knew her. They all did.

Her eyes darted all over the room, in search of familiar faces. She definitely saw Teal'c. She also noticed Cassie and her husband, and a few men from the base. They had all changed so much. Well, matured anyhow. Especially Cassie. She was a woman now, there was no doubt in her mind about that.

But she saw no Jack O'Neill. Typical. Absolutely typical for him to be late for the wake of…. She really had been gone for too long. It wasn't _like_ Jack O'Neill at all.

"Sam!"

She turned around at the call of her name, "Daniel!" She hurried to embrace her friend.

"My God, Sam. It's been so long."

"Too long," she clarified.

He pulled back to get a good look at her. "You've only grown more beautiful!"

She smiled, wiping away tears from her eyes. She eyed Daniel, too. He was so sophisticated looking. He was wearing a perfectly-tailored black suit, his hair was trimmed, his new glasses made him look very stylish and smart, and his facial hair formed a flawless…. goatee… thing that suited his face perfectly. "And you, more handsome," she complimented.

"Where's… Pat?" he asked.

"Taking care of Jake. It was his first flight, so… yeah… I'm sorry. It just feels so…"

"I know," Daniel smiled. "Happy five year anniversary…"

"Anniversary of being apart? Happy? No, Happy _reunion_."


	7. reunion

"all that i've got" by sam carter o'neill wagtail

chapter 7: reunion

The moment Jack O'Neill opened his eyes, he thought he was in heaven (surprisingly enough). Then he realized there was an IV tube sticking into his arm.

Jack O'Neill was laying in a bed of St. Vincent's Medical Center, or so the medical bracelet on his arm told him.

"Mr. O'Neill?"

He looked up to see a young blonde nurse standing in the doorway.

"What happened?" he asked her as she stepped into the room.

"You were involved in a car accident early this morning…only about 3 hours ago. "

"I'm…"

"You're very lucky to be alive, Mr. O'Neill. Do you know where you are?"

"Um… Saint Vincent's Medical Center?"

"Correct. Who's the president? What's the year?" she asked him as she checked his blood pressure.

"Um… Clint Star. It's 2010… and… I'M GOING TO BE LATE!"

"The doctor recommends that you stay for observance for at least a night to make sure there are no complications. "

"You don't understand, I **really** have to get to Colorado Springs!"

"Well… errr… your car was totaled. "

"Oh nuts…Where can I rent a car?"

Sam noticed him walking into the funeral home halfway through the priest's brief sermon. It made her blood boil that he hadn't bothered himself to be punctual for General Hammond's wake! What was wrong with him! She knew she hadn't seen him in five years but…

Five years…she'd known nothing of him for the past five years. She hadn't known whether he was dead or alive, or if he was with someone, or… if he was happy. She hadn't seen him or heard his voice since… since she'd broken his heart.

She looked shamefully to the floor as the priest finished and as memories of him flooded her, made millions of times more intense by his presence.

"Look! It's Jack!" Daniel said excitedly.

Daniel rushed over to Jack, dragging Sam behind him. "Jack!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the man in a very un-manly way.

"Ouch! Daniel! Bruised ribs!" Jack's voice made a tremor course through Sam, making her tremble.

"Oh, Jack! We haven't seen you in so long!" Daniel said as he let go of Jack. Jack's face was all scrapes and bruises. He looked… pretty bad, actually. "Wait… 'bruised ribs?'" Daniel asked, "what happened to you!"

"Uh… My truck tried to take on an 18-wheeler. Hence why I'm late."

"Oh! God! Are you all right!"

"I'm here, aren't I?" then Jack noticed Sam and their eyes locked briefly.

"Hi," she said.

"Carter," he acknowledged.

"I'm glad you made it. We were worried." She looked at the floor but directed her statement to Jack.

"I'm _sure_ you were," he answered icily.

"UNCLE JACK!" Cassie cried. As soon as she'd seen him, she'd engulfed him in a customary bear hug.

"Casssie—Cassandra," he corrected himself as he stood back to look at the woman before him. "You're beautiful," he told her.

"She is."

Jack turned to see a man about the same age as Cassandra Fraiser who stood beside her with one arm around her waist… and another extended out and waiting to receive Jack's hand.

"Jack O'Neill, meet my husband Michael Sullivan."

Jack took Michael's hand and smiled, "great to meet you, I trust you're taking care of her? "

"Of course, sir! And the pleasure is all mine… I've heard so much about you!"

"Uncle Jack, we're going to go grab something to eat, will you please join us?"

"Of course, Cass. "

A/N: No one knew exactly what had transpired between Sam and Jack but Sam and Jack themselves. That is definitely my worst chapter ever! Urgh, I hated it. I worked for 2 hours on it and it's just not as good as I'd wanted it to be. Well, I'm off to write the next one in hopes that it'll be better. Sigh. XOXO. Je vous aime.


	8. memories

"all that I've got" by sam carter o'neill Wagtail

Chapter 8: memories

At O'Malley's, Jack and Sam had been placed across from each other without thought. At first, Sam wasn't sure whether she was glad about it or not. She'd figured they might get the chance to finally talk about… things.

But as it turned out, their wounds'd had plenty of time to fester— their meal was over (they'd just paid the check) and they'd barely said three words to each other (and those three words were Sam's: "Pass," "the," and "ketchup").

She'd discovered before they'd sat down that she couldn't look at him without losing her breath. She didn't admit it to herself but every time she looked at his lips, she felt the same feeling that swept through her when he'd kissed her for the first time. She remembered the love and passion and desire in his eyes. And when she'd accidentally bumped into him under the table she remembered the way all the pain and sorrow and worry of her life had vanished when they'd made love.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to go to the home she'd had in Colorado Springs, crawl up into a little corner and cry until it was 2005 again….

That wasn't entirely true. She had Pat. She had Jacob. And she loved them with all of her heart… she just didn't feel that she deserved the right to love after what she had done.

"You can stay at our house, if you need to, Uncle Jack," Cassie offered.

"Thanks but I still have my house here. I rent it out to tourists who come here to ski sometimes but it's empty this week. "

"Oh, okay."

They stood up, put on their coats and pushed in their chairs, all in animated conversation except for Jack and Sam.

Jack had felt a sharp stab of pain every time he looked at her or heard her voice, or smelled her… a sight, a sound, and a smell he had known too well once. But "once" was over. Those things weren't his to see or hear or smell. They never were, really.

But he felt an entirely different emotion when reality struck him and he saw the honkin', shiny rock on her finger. He didn't feel guilt or remorse or grief—he felt something dangerously close to rage.

"Uh… sir?"

He turned like a shot and stopped to see Carter behind him, "I'm retired."

"I'm sorry… I forget, I guess… I just wanted to say that I'm… that it's good to see you. "

He looked at her, blue eyes staring up at him hopefully. A million options presented themselves to him—he could return her…cliché, he could ask her bluntly what the hell her problem was, he could be a sarcastic bastard… but he did none of those things. Instead, he turned his back on her and walked away. Just like she had done to him.

Sam's heart dropped and she **really** felt like crying.

"Sam?" Cassie beckoned from behind her.

Sam wiped her eyes and turned to greet Cassie.

"Sam, there's something I'd like you to know. "

"What is it?"

"George left you his house here in Colorado Springs."

"What!"

"He wanted you to have it," Cassie explained, "he felt that this is your home; that you just need a house here."

Sam blinked at her.

"I agree with him," Cassie said as she held out an envelope to Sam. The envelope was heavy. Sam guessed it held the keys.

"I—I can't accept this, Cass."

"The house is yours. I'll see you tomorrow, Sam. Take it easy."

A/N: Oh, it's just getting good…After this chapter, it'll get great! This is so much fun! XOXO je vous aime!


	9. the haunted

"all that I've got" by sam carter o'neill Wagtail

Chapter 9: **_the haunted _**

Jonothan O'Neill had turned and walked away from Samantha Carter… he had left her like she'd left him. Served her right.

So why did he feel this way?

He drove to the grocery store, then to his old house and the moment he stuck the key into the front door, he knew nothing was the same. The paint on the walls was cheerful and bright. The refrigerator was empty and the pictures that hung on the wall and stood on the fireplace were impersonal and positively foreign. Sure, Jack had been here on several occasions to redo the house and make sure it was…how had the woman from the tourism board put it? "Cozy..." but it wasn't the same as the home he'd had here before.

Memories flooded him again as 8 years of what had happened in this corner, or by the fireplace, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, or upstairs… Teal'c's first viewing of Star Wars; just sitting in front of and staring at the fire after a near-death experience offworld; taking bandages off wounds from which he still bore scars; crying for hours with the other members of SG1 after the death of Janet Frasier; that one forbidden night with Colonel Samantha Carter… or whatever the hell her name was these days.

The rage, which had subsided with memories of being the team, rose up again and boiled inside of him until it reached its pinnacle. He hurled an empty glass vase that had sat in the middle of the living room table to the "peach cobbler" painted wall in the corner where he'd first really kissed her.

The thought of how much he had cared for her made him nauseous. And what drove through his heart—now on it's final limbs—was that he still loved her and that he longed to be with her.

He craved her like a plant parched in the desert craves water. She was essential to his very being. He needed her.

He didn't know he was crying until he felt the tears dripping steadily on his arm. It was refreshing to finally let out his emotions and show them to this barren, void, impersonal, haunted house that was once a home. His home.

SJsjSJsjSJsjSJsjSJsjSJsjSJsjSJsjSJsjSJ 

Samantha Kenny could not sleep. Hell, she couldn't close her eyes without seeing him. Or hearing his voice. Or smelling his scent. Then she would open her eyes and the image of Jack turning his back on her would replay constantly and haunt her—the ghost of her past life.

Heavy breathing resonated in the large hotel suite.

The life before her family.

Sam pushed back the comforters and stood, quickly rushing to the bathroom. She wretched for what seemed like an eternity.

Her mind was telling her body that this was the time to act.

She brushed her teeth and got her coat, car key and hotel key. She scribbled a quick note on the hotel paper telling Pat that she needed to go for a drive. If he ever found the note, he would _think_ he understood; he had been very sympathetic to Sam's grief…if he only knew the whole truth to her dismay.

It was raining. Hard. She saw lightning and heard the deep roll of thunder several times. She sat in the car. The radio was muted. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the rain splattering on the car as she sat in Jack O'Neill's driveway.

She didn't know exactly how, but she didn't even have to think about getting here. She just drove. She had had the intention of coming here but now she felt like a coward, among other things.

She finally pulled the key out of the ignition and opened the car door.

Xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xo xO

"WHO THE HELL AR—" A very exhausted and worse for the wear Jack O'Neill opened the door.

Sam was silent. She looked him in the eyes and after looking at her—soaked and obviously distraught—he glared at her.

"I would ask if you knew that there's a slight time difference between Colorado and Connecticut but I know the answer." There was no humor in his voice.

"I'm sorry. I know it's late."

"Early."

"I need to talk to you."

"Visiting hours are over," he said callously and began to close the door.

"Jack, please," she reached out and grabbed the door.

"What could you possibly _want_ from me!"

"Jack—"

"I really don't care. Get out."

"Please, at least—"

"Leave. And forget how to come here."

Sam paused and thought quickly about what to say… "I'M SORRY!" she yelled.

"That's not good enough."

"But, I—"

"Good_night_, Carter."


	10. true happiness

**_all that i've got_ by Sam Carter O'Neill Wagtail JEDI**

**chapter 10: true happiness**

* * *

"Where were you?"

Sam was startled to find Pat sitting in a chair in their hotel room when Sam finally came back… at a quarter to five in the morning. "I… needed to think," she said, wiping tears from her face. But the evidence that she'd been crying remained—her face was red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot.

"Sam…Have you been drinking?"

"What? No!" She was surprised he'd even asked her such a ridiculous question.

"…because it's completely normal, if you're grieving—"

That was the thing about Patrick Kenny. He was such a nice guy and his heart was really in the right place… but he…just wasn't intelligent, and he pried into Sam's life. And Sam _really_ didn't need that. Hell, if she'd needed that she would've stayed with "Pete the control freak." That made this so much worse. _This_—coming back to Colorado Springs after so long, seeing _him_ after so long…

"Look, Pat. Just leave it alone for once," she snapped.

"Samantha," there it was! He just had to call her Samantha! "I only care about you and have your best interestat heart," he moved to embrace her.

"Please, Pat… it's just so hard. Don't pretend you understand. Even if you're just trying to help."

He looked away, as if she'd slapped him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" she sighed deeply, tears stinging her eyes. Tears stinging her eyes? What had she _become_? She used to be so strong, so independent. Had she changed that much?

She needed to get out. She needed to remember the life she'd left behind.

* * *

He'd closed the door on her. 

He felt empty. But vindicated—the pain she had caused him was so intense that he no longer felt it, but now maybe she did. But this… this emptiness was tired. So tired. Jack O'Neill felt old.

He'd cried. For hours.

She was inside his very being, he realized it now. And so many years without her was killing him slowly.

He reached for his keys; he needed peace after so much hate.

* * *

She unlocked the rental car door and snapped it open. She took a deep, calming breath before stepping onto the hard concrete. 

"Cheyenne Mountain," she let the words slide off her tongue gracefully as she read the familiar sign atop the large arch that was the entrance.

A security officer walked over to her and stopped in his tracks as soon as he recognized the famous Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter—SG1.

"Um…good morning, ma'am. May… May I see some identification, please?" he stammered.

Sam gave him her work identification badge.

She didn't go inside the complex, not yet. Later, maybe, but it was still too soon. Instead, she sat on the hood of the car in the parking lot. It was all so familiar—it was like stepping into a time machine to see the way her life had been for so long.

She'd worked here for nine years… not too shabby. Sam remembered thinking, on the day she first seriously considered leaving the Stargate program, that surely nine years was enough to spend risking one's life every day…

But everything seemed so different now. She was, doing what? Professing at an Ivy League school? _Since_ _when_, she began to wonder, _had_ _that_ _been_ _enough? _She used to fight a war alongside her brothers, and now… she lectured basic wormhole physics to a class full of 20-somethings…?

Then it hit her— she'd _run_. That's exactly what had happened. Samantha Carter had run from the life she'd led, from a battle worth fighting, from love, ... and from the life she could have led… _should_ have led.

"What is true happiness?" she asked the air.

"What do you want it to be?"

Sam spun around, hastily wiping tears from her face, "Sir!"

Jack O'Neill took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, taking a seat beside her. "Hiya Carter," he said in a tone that reminded Sam so much of the past that she wanted toembrace him.

"Sir, I… I don't know where to begin."

"An 'I'm sorry' would work just fine."

"Please don't do this…"

"And why not?" he asked. His tone was resigned and hurt.

"I… I know I hurt you. Believe me, I keep… having these recurring dreams where I can't—" she wiped her sleeve across her face. "Things can never be the way they were… and I am sorrier than you may ever know."

"Thank you." He'd been waiting for that apology for years. "I'm sorry for slamming the door on you."

"You shouldn't be," she smiled ever so slightly.

"Yet… I am."

"You deserve _so_ much better," she sighed, looking into his eyes.

"So do you." And he looked her straight in the eye for the first time in many years, his sincerity overwhelming.

"What is happiness, honestly? Is it… seeing the good you do in your work; changing the lives of _races_ of people every day for the better? Seeing the sacrifices people make…? What?" she demanded, so full of emotion she thought she might burst. Her tone softened, "Or… is it… love? But then love is sacrificing everything to save people we know nothing about, to..." she trailed off, realizing the implications of her statement, " 'sacrificing everything'…" she mused.

"In retrospect, I have never been truly happy," she continued. My father was right, all those years ago. Up until the day he died, all he wanted was for me to be happy. He was trying to tell me something and I… I couldn't see it. And now… he's gone, and I can never tell him…… I remember the day Janet Frasier died. She was an outstanding doctor, an amazing friend. When she died, a part of me did as well." She turned to face Jack, "I remember, that day, watching you get shot down. I remember thinking 'what if…?' and I remember you… so still… I thought for sure you were dead."

He wasn't sure what to say; all he had waswhat he'd come to tell her. "Sam… Back when your father died, when I said 'always.' I meant it."

How could he? How could he forgive her? So easily… She'd been so horrible to him… and she'd forsaken herself, and to what ends? "Please, Jack. Please, don't," she said, turning away.

"No, I need to. Listen to me—" he gently grabbed the sides of her face so that she looked at him again. "I… We've been through so much together, and I know that's a cliché but…" he paused. "You were a _part_ of me. I couldn't… when you left—" he let go of her face and turned to lookat the arch. "I loved you..." he said. "But I always will. Always."

Tears began streaming down her face silently but freely. "I'm not happy," she admitted. "I'm miserable. Every single day, I look back. Every _single_ day. And I miss it...I miss _you_with all my heart."

"So do I."


End file.
